The Prayer of a Legionary
by Deadlined
Summary: Betrayed by Arminius, a Roman Legionary of the tragic battle of the Teutoberg Forest survives thanks to the help of the gods.
1. Mercy of the Forest

He ran.

The Legion was dead, and the Legionary would soon be too.

He wept.

A small forest passageway became the grave of thousands of loyal men of Rome. The entire unit was wiped from history. Their families would never know their fates. History would not know their names.

He tired.

He had been running for hours. Eventually the sounds of pursuing barbarians had been lost to him. He had dropped his _scutum_, but that could only be expected as he tried to escape his hunters.

The forest was dark. Sunlight hardly reached through the thick canopy, and moss and fungus grew on every surface available. He tripped over a naturally camouflaged decayed log but quickly recovered. He threw a quick glance to the rear and prayed to every god he could personally name that he was forgotten. Surely a Cherusci or Chatti, whoever they were, would assume a lone Roman to die soon enough?

After another half hour of running and with no sign of Germanics, he stopped to catch his breath. He set his _galea_ helmet down but kept his _gladius_ on him; despite the weight and bulk, any disciplined soldier would never leave himself unarmed. The injuries of the battle caught up with him as his adrenaline died down. He winced in pain as his bruises made themselves known. He noticed a small cut on his thigh, although luckily it had stopped bleeding on its own; it must not have been that deep.

He limped over to a nearby creek and his limbs cried out in protest. He bared his teeth to deal with the pain. Pain mean he was alive, and if he wanted to stay that way, he would need water. A well fed soldier had plenty of fat on him to last him until after the battle, and when she could, Rome kept her soldiers fed. Water, however, was always a priority. He had seen too many men fall on the battlefield of dehydration. Even in the midst of combat could cool, temperate weather fell a man.

He knelt down to the water, making sure to keep his wound out of the dirt. He washed his face and his wound before taking a few sips from the stream. Slowly, he told himself. Don't get sick, now.

Satisfied, he got back up and found a large rock to rest on. Unfortunately, his break gave him time to think past on the battle. His friends were slain in front of him. Everyone he had met since he joined the Legion five years ago, every one of his comrades, were lying in a ditch or on a dirt road, likely to soon be ritually desecrated by those man-shaped beasts. They never should have crossed the Rhine. Let them kill each other off, no need to bring civilization to them.

Although that was a moot point now, and the Emperor knew things he didn't. Regardless of what could or should have happened, he was alive and alone.

He removed his _gladius_ from its scabbard. Ironic, he thought, that just like his sword, he was useless outside of the formation. Just like his sword, he was optimized from fighting as a group, and while he was a decent enough duelist, he was more than outclassed by more specialized one-on-one fighters. And now the two had but each other to rely on.

His tears had stopped flowing, although he was sure they were to come. As he looked up at the sky, there was still a decent amount of daylight left. He would need shelter soon. He didn't have most of his equipment as it was lost in the ambush. But he had his heavy, water-repellent _paenula_ on him, so that would have to work once he built himself a small hovel. He strapped his _galea_ to his belt and began searching for a suitable camping space: somewhere higher than the rain flow, but most importantly somewhere hidden, preferably with a field of view.

He eventually found a spot after nearly an hour of searching. The sun was a palm's width away from the horizon by then. It looked to be an abandoned fox den, which would have to do. It showed now signs of living-in. He made care not to disturb the area around the entrance as he made his way in. It was just big enough for him to fit inside, but he was able to squeeze in deep enough to be hidden from outside view. His _paenula_ provided a suitable blanket for the early autumn weather. As he settled in, his exhaustion finally caught up with him.

* * *

The sound of snapping brush woke him. He quietly moved to peer out of his hide and his blood froze. A patrol of Germanic barbarians was moving past. He dared not to breath. Any sound would be the signal of his death. He silently prayed to Iupiter. He prayed to Mars. He prayed to every divine being even if he didn't know their name, just for them to have mercy, just for one man to live! Please, he begged. They were defeated already!

He reached for the one personal effect he had on him, a small idol of his household Lar. It was of a small girl in a robe, just a finger length in height, crafted of stone and worn smooth, and his hand squeezed tight around it. He prayed to her, wishing nothing more for her to help him survive just another day.

Suddenly the sky darkened, bit by bit as clouds began rolling in with the wind. He heard his enemy grumble in their barbaric tongue. Minutes after, drops of rain began falling. Eventually it grew into a drizzle, and from that into a proper rain storm. To the Germanics' credit, they toughed it out like any proper soldier, only leaving once thunder was heard in the distance, for fear of it striking them amidst the trees.

He finally allowed himself to relax. He thanked the gods. He thanked the native spirits. He thanked the demigods and whatever other blessed being lived in the forest. He kissed his idol in thanks before falling back into a light doze.

* * *

He woke up as the rain stopped. He lifted his head from the leaf-colored rock he was using as a head rest and peered out of the den. The first thing to strike him was the cange of sound. Birds chirped, insects sang. He watched as a rabbit jumped out of a bush, sniffed the air, and continued on its day. As he looked around he noticed that the whole forest just seemed... livelier. He slowly moved himself forward to the entrance, soon poking his head out. He looked around. This couldn't have been the same forest as before.

Instead of moss, small brush sprang from the ground, and bouts of grass replaced the colored fallen leaves of autumn. But as far as he could tell, the trees were the same. He recognized the random shapes of some of the branches. It was as if he had hibernated through the autumn and winter! He fully exited the little hovel and draped his _paenula_ back around his shoulders. He did a quick check of his body. His wound wasn't infected, but seemed to be healing well enough. His helmet and _gladius_ were still attached. His waterskin was almost empty so he would need to top off soon.

With that, he began to wander.

Night fell quickly. It was just morning, wasn't it? He sighed, confused, and began searching the stars. It wasn't much use with the thick trees of the forest, but he was able to discern a few constellations right above him. If he could keep it oriented, he would be able to at least travel in the same direction.

He could not see well, but he never tripped or had to climb over obstacles. The tree branches never quite obscured his sight of the stars above him and so far he hadn't had to go around any obstacles either, just moving in a straight line. Was this the work of the Silvanus? he wondered. Had one of his prayers gone through? He vowed that at the end of his journey he would be a simple man, faithful to the gods. Mars had abandoned him, but here he was saved.

The forest did not clear up. The underbrush got denser and denser, and he was passing strange plants he could not hope to recognize. The brush gradually gave way to a swath of mushrooms of various colors. Some even seemed to glow on their own. He would not dare eat them, though, for fear of poison. The air became thick with the feeling of spores and he brought his _paenula_ up to his face in an attempt to protect his lungs. The mushrooms were becoming increasingly exotic. Some were almost the size of a man standing straight. Others seemed to follow him as he walked past, as if watching him.

There was no sound here. Fauna seemed to steer clear, as if they knew something about this area he didn't. And so, he quickened his pace. Eventually the mushroom patch receded as gradually as it had appeared. His _paenula_ almost felt slimy where he was breathing through it; first chance he gets, he thought, he would wash his clothing.

It wasn't until he ran straight into a tree that he actually stopped his movement. Where in Hades did that come from? he thought. Of course it made sense that a forest is a forest: a tree was simply there. He had been following a straight, unhindered path for so long that he almost assumed the rest of his journey appeared. He told himself to stop being silly, and he stepped around the tree. His foot caught on something. Just as he looked down in the moonlight to see a vine wrapped around his ankle, it tightened and pulled him up into the air so fast he hit his head on the massive roots of the tree.

His capture stopped as his foot was taken a cubit into the branches of the tree. He was snared? Was it a simple hunter? Or maybe-

His thoughts were dashed when the tree itself began to regard the trapped human. The vine pulled him up another foot, and the trunk itself began to twist, to where the crotch of the tree was directly facing the soldier. His eyes widened in fear as it began to split and, instead of tearing itself apart, wooden, splintery, jagged teeth appeared at the seam. He began shaking and struggling as the vine brought him closer. Eventually he freed his _gladius_ and curled himself up towards his suspending foot. He swiped at the vine, cutting it cleanly, and he fell about five cubits to the ground.

One of the roots dug into his back as he landed but he didn't notice. His blood was pumping as he reverted to combat mode. He saw every tiny movement of the monster tree. He rolled away as some of the exposed roots tried to grab him. He brought his _gladius_ up in a shieldless defensive position to protect against a couple more swipes from the tree's vines and branches. He slowly backed away, giving quick glances around him, listening for every snap and rustle of the forest. Nothing appeared to take advantage of the situation. He eventually backed up another fifty feet and the tree gave up.

His body chilled as his blood slowed. He felt the air prick at his skin as he calmed and widened his field of view. He turned around to be met with the curious stare of a young girl. He started, flinching his sword, but he re-sheathed it as his brain processed the image.

Her blonde hair and pale skin gave her away as some kind of Germanic tribe. Although her clothing was totally different, being a white blouse with a black vest and skirt, rather than the thick wool of the impoverished barbarians. At first he cursed at fate, as she could run off to alert her village that the Romans were coming in the middle of the night! But as he looked closer, and the forest canopy shifted from the wind and intermittently exposed the moonlight on her fact, he froze with fear. Humans don't have red eyes.

They also do not have a row of angular, sharp teeth, he recalled, as she smiled.

"Kon'nichiwa! Kimi o tabete mo ī?"

* * *

A/N: This is my first Touhou fic. Please leave reviews and help me out. Please excuse the Google Translate Japanese. I don't speak it. Also I will be using some Latin words for specifically Roman things, such as measurements or pieces of equipment.

The inspiration for this is a Gate/Touhou crossover which was very popular but, in my opinion... not very good. I was still intrigued by the idea of Roman soldiers (yes I know the Empire in Gate aren't the historical Romans, but descended from them I think) coming into the Touhou universe. In my opinion, the character writing was over-exaggerated and the prose was flat and simple. Instead of just bad mouthing or something, I tried doing better.

My main effort is my Gate: Thus the JSDF Fought There fic but this isn't just a one-off abandoned plot bunny. (Please check it out)

EDIT 14FEB2020. Fixed some phrasing, changed around and italicized Latin terms


	2. Bed and Breakfast

His vision blanked. He stood there dumbstruck. Did the monster blind him? Was he already dead? He had all of a second for thoughts to shoot through his mind before he was tackled to the ground. She had missed his drawn weapon and was now straddling his chest. She was nowhere close to heavy, but he found himself unable to simply throw her off. The monster grabbed at the lip of his segmented armor for leverage and attempted to bite down, but he was able to grab her by the neck with his left hand. She had an incredible strength, however, and the soldier was barely able to keep her back.

With his _gladius_ held by his right hand, he stabbed forwards into her torso. His vision immediately returned and he was then able to toss her to the side and scramble back up to his feet. The moonlight illuminated the girl-shaped monster as she slowly regained her posture. She felt around her belly wound and stared at him with an emotionless, almost bored expression.

"Itai," she muttered. She turned her whole body to face him. He watched as the blood that stained her small dress stopped flowing. The wound began to close, the skin slowly sealing up as if nothing had happened. She raised her arms up, spreading them straight out, as if she were being crucified. Darkness consumed his vision once again, except...

He could see. Around the edges of his vision, at least.

He had moved much further away this time while she was healing. The radius of her sorcery didn't quite reach him. Nevertheless, the black orb began to rise above the ground. Eventually it was so high it no longer covered the ground, and the soldier could see that the pool of blood had disappeared. After a couple of seconds the orb shot towards him.

This time, however, he dodged to the side. Briefly his vision was once again stolen from him, but as the monster flew past him he heard a dull thunk. His vision returned. Behind him was a tree, and on the tree was the monster who had just flew at him. Her dress stuck in parts to the bark as she crumpled to the ground.

"Hey! Fukohei!" The monster yelled, almost pouting, as she got back to her feet.

She reformed her orb of darkness again as she flew towards him. He, again, dodged. He watched as the orb flew past him before stopping an _actus_ past him, stopped, and turned back to him. His vision was blocked as it enveloped him, but it didn't stop once he was within its influence. The orb continued as if he wasn't there.

The monster continued as if she couldn't see inside the orb either.

He decided to escape before the monster had the bright idea to simply stop using her power. Judging by the sound of crashes and incoherent yelling, it wasn't until he had escaped out of sight that she thought of that.

* * *

The smell of a fire was the first thing to lead the soldier to the house. It gradually got stronger as he followed, eventually bringing him to the edge of tiny manicured field. In the middle, down a short stone path, was a Germanic-looking house. He had never seen such construction. It wasn't built like a Roman home, closer to Gallic or Germanic, but had an air of refinement and craftsmanship he could only expect to see from Roman carpenters. The soldier settle on a Germanic house built by Romans.

On the far right of the house sat a two story tower, only the top floor of which had a dull glow from interior candles. The main structure was rectangular and single floored, with a roughly ninety degree angle at its height, and walls painted in white with an exposed architectural frame. Covering the front door and windows was a short overhang, supported by thin wrought iron pillars. He followed the stone path to the wooden front door which, he noticed as he got closer, had a simple knob and deadbolt. He used an iron knocker mounted on the upper face of the door to announce his presence.

It wasn't but a couple of seconds before he heard the light footsteps of someone come down the stars from the lit bedroom. The lights of the main room suddenly lit at nearly the same time, surprising him. How did she light those all from across the room?

Before he could ponder further the door opened, revealing a rather tall woman in a blue silk night dress, again in a style he'd never seen before, and of a rather exquisite quality. Curiously, a doll with a rather similar appearance was sitting on her shoulder. She was just above his height at five and a half feet, maybe half a head taller. She smiled as warmly as one could in the middle of the night; she was probably making ready to get in bed.

Considering her wealth, perhaps she would understand at least some Latin? Surely anyone able to afford such a home would have been dealing with the Roman Empire, and she must have picked up on some of it from her husband.

"Hello," he said, offering his hand out, "I am Glavus Carissimus Felix. I am looking for shelter for the night."

The woman cocked her head slightly, seemingly amused, before her smile grew a little wider. She took reciprocated his handshake. "Alice Margatroid."

Her expression turned to a very slight frown and her eyes wandered briefly, as if watching something behind him.

"I... speak Latin, not," she said. Although her grammar was terrible, he understood the message. She stepped to the side and motioned for him to come in. "Bed one night. Many visitors lost."

He nodded, giving thanks to Margatroid. He stepped inside and was greeted with only pleasantness. It was a small house by Roman standards but was as luxurious as any lower level _Equite_. A lush rug was laid out in the center, with a short table in the center. Rather than the reclining couches he was used to, a couple of more than adequately padded upright chairs sat around the table.

Fine, polished furniture sat all around the walls, with my framed paintings and odd devices-one presumably a clock-hung from the walls. But on every ledge, every surface, sat an innumerable amount of small dolls, each with their unique sets of clothing and accessories. Everyone has their hobby, he supposed. Did she sell these in whatever nearby village? And it was odd for the man of the house to not be present for something like this. Usually he would be the one answering the door if not a servant. He chalked it up to cultural norms.

"Shoes," Margatroid said. He turned his head to her, and followed her arm down as she pointed towards his muddy _caligae_. He quickly untied them and placed them on the hard wood by the door. Satisfied, she waved her hand towards one of the wooden doors on the other side of the room. "Bath. Soap."

Sure he could bathe, but soap? He was already being taken in, he couldn't impose such a luxury! "I do not need soap, it's expens-"

She shook her head, her expression becoming stern. "House dirty not! Soap."

He raised his hands in defeat. He moved himself towards the bathroom while she went off towards a closet. By the time he had managed to figure out the door locking device, which wasn't more than a couple of seconds of manipulating it, Margatroid had returned with a drying towel and a couple of much smaller ones, presumably washcloths.

He bowed his head in thanks and took the towels. The sight that greeted him was entirely unfamiliar. It was small and cramped, just big enough for the tub, and had pipes running to and from it. Rather than normal Roman baths built into the structure, or even Gallic and Germanic ones, it seemed that the water was pooled into a small tub just sitting on top of the ground. It was barely big enough for him to sit in!

There was a small wooden table next to it with small colored, capped vases, and a tiny dish with a bar of soap on it. At least he could figure that out. Although the tub was empty and there was a hole in the bottom and a spout at the top. It seemed that water was filled and drained here, rather than just bucketed in for a group and tipped over. He was impressed; even out here, her people managed technology on par with Rome. Although, he never saw an aqueduct leader to her house...

"Knob," Margatroid said, turning two fixtures right underneath the spout. She dipped her hand into the stream and adjusted the two knobs further. After a couple of seconds she produced a circular plug and stopped the drain at the bottom fo the tub. "Hot," she said, pointing to one of the knobs, and to the other, "Cold."

"Thank you," the soldier said. She seems to have a grasp on vocabulary, if not sentence structure. She should understand that.

She didn't react, however. Margatroid simply exited the room and closed the door behind her. As the soldier undressed himself the water reached gradually about halfway up the walls of the tub. He turned the knobs in the opposite direction she did and the shut off. He put his hand in the water and yanked it out. It was hot. He tried again and found it rather pleasant; finding hot water out of a spout was just surprising. He was increasingly impressed. Heated indoor plumbing was an absolute luxury in the Empire. Without an aqueduct, there must be a basin somewhere, feeding this house with underground pipes.

Soaps, fine hard wood furniture and glass windows? Heated water and indoor plumbing? Hand-crafted tapestries and rugs? Who was this woman, who could afford this in the middle of the forest? Her husband must have been a wealthy politician, but why was the house so small? Where were her servants? After some deliberation, he decided not to worry about it. Whatever it was, her family made it work. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say.

He eventually emerged from the tub and activated the drain. He didn't spend enough time for it to get very cold, but he had cleaned off every bit of dirt and grime on his body. He felt absolutely refreshed after not bathing for weeks, let alone with soap. The soft linen robe she provided was even better. He hadn't worn such comfort in ages! He would make sure to keep his belt and _pugio_ nearby, however. She was accommodating, but he was still in a strange house in the middle of the woods.

Margatroid looked pleased as he exited the bathroom. But only for a second, as her usual neutral expression took over. She walked over to the door on the adjacent wall and opened it up, revealing a bedroom with a small, single-person bed.

The wealth put into this room, again, must have been fantastic. A lush bed with fluffy, dyed blankets sat in the center of the round bedroom, the headboard pressed up against the wall. Next to it was a small night table with a single candle, the only source of illumination. Off to the side sat a small six compartment dresser. None of her dolls were in this room, he noted.

He settled his _paenula_ into the corner and his _lorica_ and greaves on top of it, making sure not to mar the flooring. He placed his _gladius_ next to it, leaning up against the wall, while his _galea_ sat on top of his torso armor. Margatroid watched him, making sure he got into the bed, presumably so he didn't try to deny any more of her hospitality. "Journey tomorrow," she said, before shutting the door.

His body ached for sleep, now that he was actually in a bed. He felt that he couldn't get up even if he wanted to. So he slid deeper under the covers, truly resting for the first time since they had set off across the Rhine, but not before slipping his pugio underneath his pillow. Just in case.

* * *

The arrows had struck his century out of nowhere. Scores of men fell to the ground, the lucky dead, the rest soon to be either by Germanic sword, bleeding, or being trampled by their own fellows. Glavus was in neither camp and, with the aid of the survivors, had managed to form a two sided wall to repel the ambush. The savages had come upon them like a breaking dam, bursting forth from the woodline with terrible war cries. The Romans braced but were soon compressed into each other as the enemy kept pushing.

Glavus shook as his breath left his body, resigned to his fate. He stabbed through the shield wall with his _gladius_, felling one of the Germanic warriors, although another quickly took the man's place, standing on the fallen body. He ducked his head as a spear thrust came over his _scutum_ and dinged against his _galea_. Even as he dug his feet into the earth the line was pushed back. Soon after he could feel the feet of the opposite side of the column as they faced a similar situation.

Finally relief came. _Auxilia_ still loyal to Rome came, heavy cavalry riders whose strong horses trampled the infantry beneath their hooves. Even they were not enough to save Glavus' legion, but they provided a temporary reprieve as they struck in the enemy's undefended back. But no sooner were the cavalry forced to retreat did the barbarians pinch one section of the line closed, separating the century into two groups. At the same time, due to luck or the blood of the _auxilia_, a hole opened up in the attack just as the main line was dissolved. Glavus and a couple others were forced out through the opening.

He charged into one of the barbarians and knocked the man to the ground with his _scutum_ before stabbing with his _gladius_. "Run, Glavus!"

His friend, Marius had escaped the collapse along with another soldier, Gaius. The two quickly followed Gaius as they ran towards the forest, possibly into more Germanic savages, but definitely away from the valley, which held only death for any Roman. Upon hitting the treeline, there were very few enemies lying in wait. Glavus counted it as a break in discipline, as they evidently did not leave enough in reserve to capture or kill survivors. He could not, however, count this to be universal across the battlefield. There were only levied hunters who were armed with short weak bows.

But that did not mean the individual men were weak. The closest one to him swung at him with an axe which punctured the _scutum_ and tore it out of Glavus' hand. The Roman responded with a slash to the man's arm and another at his chest before disengaging. He lunged forwards to parry another hunter's axe swing from above, deflecting the strike to his right, before re-angling his _gladius_ for a thrust to the enemy's stomach. He heard the death cry of Gaius behind him. He dodged a thrust from yet another Germanic's hunting knife and chopped halfway through the barbarian's neck.

Gaius did not go down as a coward. In the second that Glavus could spare to watch, the doomed Legionary unsheathed his _pugio_ as he was run through from behind and an axe disabled the hand manipulating his _gladius_. He managed to grab an enemy on his way down, slicing his belly open as he was hacked to pieces by the levies.

The forest was free behind him, but not for long. Marius caught up with him and urged him to run.

Glavus spared a glance back at the carnage and saw nothing he wished to remember. A straight line of the dead, many more wearing the colors of the Empire than the greens and browns of the different Germanic tribes, followed the path of the valley exactly. Apart from himself and Marius, he could not see a living Roman.

Glavus gradually awoke, searching for his _gladius_, tearing the restricting blanket off of his legs. It took him a long second to realize that there were no barbarians anymore, and he was safe in a bedroom. He sat up and took several deep breaths, staring intently at various objects he could see in the faint moonlight. He squeezed his hands, searching for any feeling to focus on and distract his mind. Satisfied the night terror was over with, he laid back down to try for more rest.

He watch as Marius was set upon by the Germanics. "Run, Glavus! Someone has to live!" his friend cried as he was caught up to. He deflected a sword blow with his shield and slashed the offender across his face. Marius took a glancing blow to the shoulder of his _lorica_ but was able to turn and cut that man down too.

Glavus' eyes fluttered open in the dark. His heart was beating as fast as it did that day. A slight tremor ran throughout his body from his core as he took a deep breath to calm himself, trying to convince his body that he was safe.

* * *

He finally decided to rise from the bed as the morning sun stretched long rectangles across the bedroom walls through the four-paned window. He groggily slid out from under the covers and planted his feet on the floor. He regretted the lack of sleep but it was nothing he was not used to. Sleep, and spiritual healing, would come in time. But questions still plagued his mind. How many died? How many were captured and what happened to them?

Forget his century, most of his Legion was dead. All of them by now, probably. And here he was in a bed, perfectly clean, enjoying a nap. There was nothing he could do now, of course. But thoughts kept interjecting themselves. He tried to turn back to the current situation, not thinking of anything that wasn't an immediate concern.

Margatroid had mentioned a journey the previous night. Although, he thought, considering the language boundary, that could mean a number of things. It could be a mile down the road to halfway across the country, he guessed. He hoped she would at least give him the way.

He redressed himself in his tunic, wrapping his belt back around his waist. The bedding was removed and folded half neatly; at the very least he could make the hospitality easier for her as he didn't really have much else to thank her with. He wore his _pugio_ on his belt, but kept his _gladius_ off of him, keeping it with his armor as he opened the bedroom door and entered the main room. He almost froze in shock at the sight of Margatroid. All around her, what were simple dolls the previous night, were a dozen and a half small flying creatures, preforming various chores. Some were dusting the furniture, others fixing various sheets or trinkets, some even preparing food!

A gasp escaped him as he jumped back in shock and his spine hit the door frame. His _lorica_, _balteus_-mounted _gladius_, and _paenula_ fell to the floor with a loud clamor. He automatically reached for his _pugio_, but one of the creatures had stayed his hand with surprising force before he even realized had begun to draw it. Sweat dropped past his brow as he panted, but Margatroid stayed seated across the room, as calm as if she were watching a late evening fire. She was sitting in a high chair by a crafts table, thread and needle in hand and a half-constructed doll laying like a sacrificed animal.

Margatroid didn't turn to address him. She just continued working on the doll. "Sit. Food," she said.

A couple of the creatures then flew to one of the other sets of furniture closer to her crafts table, working together to bring a plate of food to it.

She finally turned to look at him. "Before food cold." One of the little creatures flew up at the same time of her words, pointing towards the table as well. As he looked closer, he realized that these weren't living beings, but rather were the dolls from before. The idea that they were being animated, or at least controlled, rather than transforming into some kind of being, made him feel slightly different, but he didn't really know how.

The gods were peculiar about creating life. Did she know? She must understand the consequences of playing with forces well above that granted normally to humanity. What in every hell that existed was she? Was he in more danger, or less, than when he was wandering that cursed forest in the middle of the night, or running from the Germanics even?

Reluctantly he followed her directions. He felt he was held hostage as he sat down in the high chair, which was tall enough for his feet to leave the ground, although he noticed that Margatroid was just able to brush the toes of her shoes against the floor. He also noticed her daywear, which consisted of a finely woven blue dress and a white shawl, with long red ribbons tied around her waist and neck.

He had to admit the breakfast was rather splendid. In perilous danger or not, he might as well enjoy what is good, he figured. The plate was filled with a decent variety. She was a very skilled cook. The pork strips were cooked just right, he thought, friend right until the began to blacken, and she had done something to the eggs to really give them a distinctive taste. Slices of bread were also re-baked, toasted to a light brown and then smeared with butter. Finally were beans cooked in a dense soup. None of this particularly upper class food either; it was all notably plebeian but cooked with expensive sugars, syrups, and fruit products.

The discrepancies between obscene luxury used to color the blatantly peasant food bemused him. Why did Margatroid not just buy better foods in the first place? The juice served in a glass cup was another such conundrum. It was simple juice from an orange, albeit strained for pulp, perhaps with a bit of sugar, served in an exquisite piece of glass. Her husband must of some sense of humor.

Again, it wasn't really his place to ask such questions. The nerve-striking sight of one of the automations taking a now-empty plate off of the doll maker's desk only reinforced that. He placed the cutlery, bowl, and cup on the plate and exited the chair. It took all he had to stand still as a couple of the dolls suddenly grabbed the stack from him and take it to the sink and begin cleaning. One of the dolls, the one he recognized as being on Margatroid's shoulder the previous night which sported a bright red bow and waist-length golden hair, fluttered up a foot in front of his face. It gave him a thumb up gesture with one of its tiny hands. With him inside a magician's house, the gladiatorial symbol of judgment unnerved him.

Exasperated, he rubbed his face and turned away, walking to collect his dropped gear. He could've sworn he heard the doll maker chuckle, but he elected to ignore it.

* * *

AN: Had to cut this one up. I don't want 4,000 word chapters followed by 1,000 word ones. Edited the previous chapter.

So gonna get this out there: Glavus here was born about 10 BC. Of course he would assume Alice would be married. A woman living by herself in the middle of the forest in absolute luxury (compared to ancient Rome where sugar, salt, glass, silk, etc. were very expensive) just doesn't occur as a thought to him.

So, much didn't happen here, physically. But he's going through a hell of a culture shock. Honestly a superstitious ancient Roman may take better to Gensokyo than a modern westerner, though. Glavus already believes in magic and very literal and physical gods/divine beings/mysticism. He's just now seeing it in person for the first time.

Don't expect another quick update, I've just had a lot of time and motivation on my hands with this one. The pace will also probably decrease as we get through the story. Although I've been on a roll with this one and Chapter 3 might be pretty soon.

Edited 15MAR mostly for minor corrections and naming conventions.


	3. Barriers, Literal and Not So

A good hour later and the pair were ready to travel. Margatroid had the same outfit from the morning, but with a low cut pair of black shoes over thin white stockings. Glavus had redonned his lorica and cloak, but still opting to keep his _galea_ on his belt. His _balteus_ was over his shoulder, suspending his _gladius_' scabbard over his left side. It seemed that she was going to lead him to where he needed to go. "Guide" and "protect" she had said. Although at first he would have doubted whether a single woman could protect even herself, after seeing her control all those dolls, he wasn't really sure of anything in this land any more. He could be walking right into the lair of some blood-sucking _strix_ for all he knew!

Right before they stopped off, the door opened one last time as two dolls brought out a small leather satchel which Margatroid took and wore across her body. She gave him a slight smile and they were off.

On the beaten path, the world was completely different from the hellish forest he had navigated the night before. Wildflowers grew by the roadside, giving a pleasent sight to travelers, while the gentle singing of the local birds eased Glavus' heart. The sun was soft here, despite sparing no effort in illuminating every detail of the environment. Even without even faint clouds to block the sun, his eyes were not strained as he took in the landscape around him as they finally left the forest.

Perhaps a mile away, down a gradual but noticeable incline, sat several noticeable landmarks. The most obvious were the lone mountain—albeit with a few minor sub-peaks around it—and the small forest surrounding most of it and traveling roughly a quarter up its height. A small lake sat at the edge of the forest, and from it, a small sized river, or rather large creek, flowed to the south into terrain he couldn't see past from his position.

But the most interesting was the large villa. It was several floors tall, with pointed roofs and had a tower in the center. He began wondering who could have owned that. There were no fields around it, growing crops that provided or at least augmented the owner's source of wealth. In fact, the entire property was walled off with flat green vegetation covering the entire grounds with ornate stone paths constructed within, a faniful display of abject wealth and power.

They eventually drew closer to the villa. He could see the details of the lake. It was remarkably clear and he could see several feet down into its depths as their path trailed along its shore. He had just noticed something extremely out of place as they got further and further along the shore.

Random patches of grass and flowers were covered in a fine frost, despite the day's temperate weather. There were even several frogs encased in chunks of ice, which dotted the small clearing randomly.

"Yameru! Fuhō shin'nyū o yamero!"

The voice came from above him. He looked up. A shape, high up in the air and masked by the sun, floated lazily in the sky. A cloud flew by, blocking the sun, and as the flying creature was revealed, he realized it wasn't as far up as he first believed. It was just small, the size of a child. A very small child, he added in his head.

Margatroid sighed as if she was bored. "Idō shite kudasai, watashi wa doko ka ni iru."

The creature pouted. She crossed her arms and turned her head away, proving a quiet "Hmph!"

Margatroid took a step forwards and was met by the dirt exploding around her.

Glavus stepped back, his jaw dropping in surprise. He searched for the small creature in the air, but she had flown around in a big circle and stopped a couple _acti_ away, right in front of the pair. She held her hands out which began to glow within a light blue mist. Wide-eyed, Glavus grabbed his guide around her waist and dove out of the way into cover as foot-long icicles began flying towards the pair. He landed in the ditch first, Margatroid on top, while the icicles flew over the crest like arrows.

It was some kind of ice nymph, Glavus realized, although she seemed rather immature. Usually, in legends at least, they were in the shape of full grown women. This one, instead, had a short blue and white dress with a large bow on the back of her hair, both of which were also shades of blue. She had wings made of ice shards, although they were not attached but were floating in the general shape.

Rather than stay down, Margatroid gave him an annoyed look and stood straight up. Are you crazy!? he yelled in his head, reaching out to pull her back into cover. She all but slapped his hand away, instead reaching into her satchel and pulling out a handful of dolls. To his amazement they flew in the air from her hand into a circular formation around her.

The nymph laughed, not with a voice of hate or evil, but like a child playing with her friends. He poked his head up and, seeing the area was safe, slowly got back up to his full height. The nymph did another motion with her hands and mist began forming, gradually growing into a cloud as large as the creature herself. It was suddenly shot out towards Margatroid.

The grass where Margatroid was standing was frozen in place in an instant. But the dollmaker simply hopped back a couple of feet to dodge and unleashed an attack of her own. Each doll began moving in a gigantic circle a dozen _cubits_ in diameter as they unleashed glowing bolts of light. The nymph was able to dodge for a while, shooting back with the occasional icicle, but was soon hit with several of Margatroid's missiles. Rather than react, the fairy simply disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Glavus got back up on his feet in exasperation, confusion, and emotional exhaustion. He held his hands out in a universally obvious 'what the Hell?' gesture. Margatroid looked back with an extraordinarily smug smile.

* * *

The dollmaker continued on the path around the lake with Glavus in tow. The multi-story villa became larger and larger, and the outer wall came into clearer detail. Glavus took everything in, from the evenly sized and laid bricks to the thick ivy growing on some sections. In the center of the wall was a wrought iron gate with finely decorated shapes, with vines curling and twisting up into spikes and curves at the upper edge.

Guarding the gate was a peculiar woman sporting an exotic dress and green cap with a star prominently displayed in the middle. Margatroid came up to the woman and the two had a quick conversation in their native tongue. They seemed friendly enough, however, and the guardwoman unlocked the gate for the pair.

Glavus noticed her features as he walked past. She had reddish-brown hair with a braid going down one side of her face. Her eyes told of a far eastern ancestry, eyes he had heard of silk traders from beyond the Indus bearing. A magnificient bearded serpent was embroidered into her green dress in fine gold thread. She gave him a warm smile and a wave of her hand which Glavus hesitently returned.

The path before him led him past rows of tediously manicured flowers, each a different shade complimenting te previous lot. It was really quite beautiful, and the garden did much to help him relax. It helped him forget the forest, the Germanics, all the fear and stress of the past thre years of his life, fighting with his comrades every day through Gaul just to die forgotten and alone in a dark forest.

The massive dark wooden front doors of the villa were opened as the two began to climb the couple of stairs that lead up to the entrance. A thin woman stood inside the doorway. Her blue dress and white apron were immaculate, their bright and clear colors contrasting with the earthy and textured tones of te exterior architecture. Thin, white stockings ran up her legs from low-cut and polished leather shoes. Her face was framed by two braids of her silver hair, which was contained by a frilly white headband which finished the ensemble.

She bowed in greeting, hardly reacting to him, as if she greeted foreign soldiers as a day job. She straightened out and motioned the two inside. The Roman took in the impressive architecture as he walked in. Decorative columns lined the painted walls while polished granite made up the floors, with rich rugs covering the primary avenues of movement. Seemingly perfectly paintings were spaced across the walls of various figures he did not recognize. Wooden stairs led up to a balcony floor from the center of the room, although the servant did not lead them up.

Instead they went left. The room they entered had a massive waist-height table as a centerpiece. Plushly cushioned armless chairs surrounded the table with a candle between each along the table's center. Massive windows illuminated the room, and an eyeful of a view of the nearby lake and forest greeted him as he peered outwards.

Here the servant pulled two seats out, motioning for him to sit. He nodded in thanks and took the seat, taking in the sight around him. The walls were evenly painted a clean white. A fireplace at the end was unlit and perfectly clean, with dark gray stones forming a mantle. An opulent silk tablecloth covered the table, which shimmered in the sunlight as he moved his exact point of view.

He heard the Germanics coming from behind him as the sound of steel being struck rang throughout the room. His sword was out in an instant. The clang of armor against armor, sword against sword consumed his mind as he...

He saw one of a group of girl servants lay flat on the ground, with a pile of dirty trays and dishes stop bouncing and vibrating on the hardwood floor in front of her. She quickly panicked and shot up to all-fours, quickly trying to pick up all the tiny shattered ceramic and glass shards that were strewn across the floor.

The feeling of the servant's hand on his shoulder brought him out of it in an instant. He turned his head to look at her. The girl's gray eyes were as serious as ever. Of course they were. Here he was, as a guest, drawing his sword at one of her subordinates.

The little creatures were quietly picking up their mess with a small broom and dust pan. One had even produced a mop and bucket. Some, however, were taking furtive glances in his direction. He saw the teary-eyed fear plastered on their faces.

He quietly re-sheathed it and sat down in the previously offered seat. His stomach churned and his ears burned. He stared without focus, yet ever intensely, at the tablecloth in front of him. It wasn't until a finely extravagant cup of wine was placed in front of him and brought his mind to the present that he noticed his fists were clenched, his knuckles white.

He forced himself to relax. The barbarians were gone. He was simply in a foreign mansion, in a previously unknown land full of magical beings that could kill him if they wanted so. But, they hadn't, he thought. They hadn't!

Glavus tried the wine. It was quite good, he had to admit. And the wine filling his belly did take some of the stress with it, like any good, undiluted wine should. The servant simply sat there, studying him. It was almost unnerving. "Thank you," he said, trying to break the tension. She nodded in response, but didn't say much else. Well, he did just pull his weapon on one of her coworkers.

Several more moments passed by. He continued to sip on his glass, but she hardly moved from her position. Her expression had softened slightly, a slight frown making itself known on her small face, while her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He blinked and something seemed off. She was in the same space, the same pose, even. But she was shifted slightly, her hands sitting slightly different in her lap, her head tilted slightly differently. "The mistress will see you shortly," she said suddenly in perfect Latin, almost causing Glavus to jump out of his seat.

The Legionary fortunately did not jump out of his seat.

As if at the servant's word the door to an upper balcony opened. Out stepped a little girl, looking no older than fifteen years of age, dressed in a silky, frilly red dress that had several ribbons tied around it. She daintily leaned against the railing, a good fifteen feet above the floor. She regarded him with idle curiosity, a slight frown on her face as she took in the sight of the soldier, her head tilting slightly to the side in thought. Although he'd since seen enough 'litte girls' that could kill him easily that he knew to tread lightly.

He stood up in acknowledgement of her entrance.

"Tell me, Roman, do you believe in vampires?"

Latin? She must be well-traveled, then, as young as she appeared to be. She was this far away from the Roman Empire but was familiar enough to not only recognize who he was on sight, but could speak Latin fluently.

"My people do not have tales of vampires," Glavus answered.

"Vampires are creatures born of evil," she explained, "who are the result of men becoming that of demons of Hell. We subsist off the life of human beings by drinking their blood."

They stared each other down. Her scarlet eyes did not fit in with her young figure, nor did the confident expression she wore. She slowly drummed her finger tips on the railing, and with her other hand she rested her chin.

"You should know, human, that I have not murdered one person in my life, although at times I have been forced to take... less than courteous methods to feed." She straightened her back, wrapping her hands around each other at her waist, before continuing. "But know this. We are not the same. My new life was not fully my choice, but that doesn't change what I am and what you are."

She stopped speaking for several seconds, continuing to study him. He subtly shifted his weight under her eye. Perhaps if this was his first encounter with the creatures in this new land he would be frozen, unable to react, but by then he had learned to stay calm, as panicking never helped. But despite being unnerved he could still keep his head about him.

"But do not fret. I am forbidden from attacking humans here," the vampire said. "When I first arrived here the native youkai and I had some... debates, but we've since figured things out."

He nodded in... understanding? Acceptance. That was really his only choice now. He would be dead if this 'vampire' wished. With that she about-faced and exited back through the door behind her, just as quickly as she first came in.

* * *

It wasn't until several minutes later until he was joined by another woman of the mansion, who entered through one of several smaller back doors to the dining room. She was simply dressed, although it would seem not by necessity. The silk of her light purple dress shimmered in the light of the sun, which as he noticed just as she walked into it, only reached a couple feet high onto the walls, stopping well short of the vampire's balcony.

"Good morning, Roman," the woman in purple said, giving a slight bow. "My name is Patchouli Knowledge. I am the librarian of the mansion, and magical advisor to Mistress Remilia."

Glavus was a bit more calm this time. Maybe there were just a bunch of magicians here, he thought. That's just how it is. Probably. "Glavus Carissimus Felix. You can speak Latin?"

Knowledge nodded in affirmation. "Of course. Latin is used in many forms of western magic. It's practically the official language of the field," she explained. "Although, of course, barely anyone here speaks Latin. Even," she said, motioning towards the dollmaker, "among Magicians."

"And your mistress?"

"She is over five hundred years old," the librarian answered as if explaining things to a child. "She knows several languages."

Glavus paused in thought. Every instinct he had told him to thank her hospitality, turn tail, and run. Of course, while there was a sizeable human population nearby, he had no idea where it was. He was likely disposed towards running into more monsters, and maybe the next wouldn't be a juvenile like the one from the previous night.

"Would it be possible for your magics to help in this matter?" Glavus asked. He would need to get on their good side. Logically to him, that was the best course for survival.

"Unfortunately, no. I am first and foremost an Elemental Magician. The body and mind are not my strong suite. Even so, the human mind is not a book that you simply write in. To implant a new language into your brain is hardly plausible, even in theory."

Well of course it wouldn't be that easy. Like anyone stranded in any other part of the world, he would have to properly learn the local language and culture. At the very least, he should try to-

"This is where I come in," a soft voice said from behind the Roman, sending a cold shock down his spine. He twirled around out of his seat, knocking his empty glass over as he turned to face the voice. To his terror, a split was being torn from the air as if a knife were to cut open a distended belly. A pitch black space, darker than the deepest forest on a moonless night, was rent into reality. A dozen eyes opened from the nothingness, unnatural red pupils staring at everywhere simultaneously, but as he tried to look at each, they were never quite in the center of his view. They were shifting, never standing still, as new ones appeared and others receded. Each had the look of pure evil, of greed and inhuman malice.

At first, a single stockinged leg of a woman stepped through from the wrong perspective, coming from the interior edge of the opening and meeting the ground facing away from him. Gradually the rest of the being arrived in reality. She was clothed in a slightly pink northern style dress. A thin purple tabbard hung over her shoulders bearing strange designs he had never seen before, and long blonde hair reaching down to her waist. She slowly spun on her heels, revealing her face to him as the wound in reality sealed behind her.

She was terribly human. Every movement, expression, and twitch was deliberate. She had a gentle smile which betrayed almost grandmotherly affection, although she herself looked no older than thirty. But her eyes, a deep and vibrant purple, betrayed a deep cunning unmatched by any man he had seen before.

"It's rather simple for me," the woman explained. "I am not restricted to elemental magic. It's just a matter of removing the language barrier from your mind."

Glavus took a step back. First that monster, then the dollmaker, now this? He wanted to reach for his weapon. Luckily, though, he was frozen in fear before he offended that monster.

The woman's smile reformed into a slight frown as her finger came to rest on her chin in though, elbow supported by her other hand. "Hm? Is this how you greet gods in your culture?"

Something kicked his knees out from behind him with enough force to bring him to the ground. He allowed the rest of his body to follow, catching himself with his hands on the ground. He kept his head low, not even daring to look at her feet. All he could hope for was for that goddess to not kill him where he was.

She moved to the side and walked around him, inspecting him. He caught a glimpse of one of those tears in the air where she was standing, but it soon seamlessly disappeared. Instead of the eyes, this time, it was the space immediately behind him.

"My, my, a genuine Roman," she observed. "_Lorica segment__ata_, _Mainz_ pattern _gladius_, you're just a walking museum! You're the first one I've actually seen myself, you see."

Glavus gradually heard her footsteps as she came around. Eventually she reached back to the front of him. "You can look now, Legionary."

He slowly raised his head. She was bent forwards slightly, hands resting on her knees, and the smile she first wore had returned. Wore, Glavus thought. She wore expressions as masks.

The goddess was tapping a small stick on her chin in a similar post to before. "So, how did you come here, human?"

"I was in the forest," he began. "I was being chased by Germanic barbarians. I escaped by crawling into a burrow-"

The goddess interrupted him. "So you got here by hiding during a battle?"

He shook his head quickly, afraid that she would view him as a coward... and judge him accordingly. "No, we were ambushed, they killed half of us in seconds before we were even able to respond!"

She narrowed her eyes but allowed him to continue.

"Two others got away at first, but we had to fight through a line of archers. They slowed us down until-"

The sword exited the front of Marius' chest, pushing aside the strips of his armor. He fell forwards onto his hands and knees before the brute stomped on his back, forcing him into the muddy forest floor. He raised his sword and-

Glavus took a breath. "Until the other two were killed. I was able to escape into the thicker woods and avoid them. I found an animal burrow as it got dark. When I awoke, I was in the nearby forest and found my way to Alice Margatroid's house."

The goddess paced another small circle in front of him as he gave his tale, deep in thought. When she decided she had thought enough. "Yakumo Yukari," she said.

At her word, he felt a slight tingle in the back of his head, but it did not linger.

"There, now what may be said in Japanese, you will hear in Latin. Just be aware, you won't understand the native language here, it will be as if everyone is speaking Latin," she explained. Squaring herself up with the soldier, she took in the sight of him up and down. "I would advise attempting to learn the language on your own if you wish to live here."

"Thank you, my goddess," he replied. What a wonderful gift! All his fear and unease seemed to evaporate in an instant, but he still held some reserves about her. For every good tale of divinity in his native Pantheon, there was one of bad.

Yukari Yakumo left as logically disgusting as she had arrived, although this time Glavus withheld his gaze. Once he felt he was safe, he got back up to his feet, brushing himself off in the process. He looked around at the women in the room. Margatroid had an expression of shock, it seemed, coverng her mouth with one hand with arched eyebrows.

Knowledge, meanwhile, sighed and rubbed her temples with her finger tips.

* * *

The villa's head servant led them back to the entrance, although the dollmaker had elected to stay. She had business with the residents of the villa, if Glavus recalled correctly, after all. The servant, who had later introduced herself as Sakuya Izayoi, had volunteered to lead him to some "human village."

"Oh, Margatroid," Glavus said, turning before he reached the front door. "Please pass onto your husband I appreciate your hospitality. You saved my life."

Alice chuckled in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm not... I'm not married."

"You're what."

* * *

AN: This chapter felt like a bunch of scenes I wrote and then jammed together... it kinda is. Although I had to shuffle and change them as I welded them together. There could probably be more movement fleshed out rather than exposition-through-conversation but screw it, I'd rather get a new chapter out than not at all.

Yes, I realize the humor in a battle hardened Roman Legionary taking cover from Cirno. To be fair if this wasn't his first day in Gensokyo he would know all he'd have to do is throw his sword at her and he'd win. Understand that he's an _unpowered_ outsider, especially before Spell Card rules. Every dangerous youkai around has no reservations about just him.

Also I, once again, had to break this chapter up to not make it extremely long (even then, it's still pretty big). Changes to the last chapter are mostly relegated to names. For example, he is polite from an ancient Roman perspective by referring to them by their 'nomen' rather than their 'praenomen'


	4. The Forge Girl

Much like the dollmaker, Izayoi was not much for conversation. Although the difference with that topic was that Margatroid realy understood Latin vocabulary; the servant was conversational, but was very short with her words.

He tried once more to strike up a conversation. "Izayoi, what exactly is this errand you're running?"

"_Ocha_," she curtly replied.

Glavus gave her a wear look. She met his gaze, although it seemed she finally relented with a slight sigh.

"Mistress Remilia has lived a long life and is eager to try many things. One thing I do is travel Gensokyo for new things to flavor her _ocha_, and I have heard a new flavor has been popular in the Human Village."

Gensokyo. So that was the name of this land. Glavus had never actually learned where he was, he just thought to himself.

"I've never had _ocha_," the Roman said. "What is it?"

"A caffeinated drink made by boiling the leaves of certain herbs."

"I will have to try some," he commented.

Izayoi did not respond. She continued strolling, her peaceful and elegant form in stark contrast to his, a rough and weary mass of steel, leather and wool. According to the sun, they were heading south on a well-worn dirt road. It was not improved as the Romans would have done, but the dirt was packed and clear, evidence of hundreds of years of use. The forest stayed clear a dozen _acti_ on each side, before eventually giving way to plains of wild grass.

It wasn't long until they came upon another building. It was just as large and extravegantly built as the vampire's mansion, but contrasted greatly. The home was rotten; glass was opaque from dust where it wasn't shattered. The roof was disintegrating, and the wooden portico was sagging with the door having fallen off one hinge. He slowly came to a stop as he took in the view. Something was catching his attention, something he couldn't quite see. He heard no sound, but something was tugging at his inner ear as he peered into the dark windows.

He could almost make it out, the singing of an instrument, that pushed emotion directly into his heart.

"Carissimus-_san_," the servant said.

The world came back from him. He turned back to his guide and found himself a few feet on the other side of a crumbled stone wall, mostly overcome by earth and plant. He took one last look at the building. He could have sworn he could see a shadow in the black, but further search revealed nothing.

He walked back out to the road before continuing the walk with the girl.

"It is an old mansion. Only ghosts live there now," Izayoi explained. Glavus did not press further.

* * *

The world opened up as the road winded through a few small hills. Water-logged farms stretched for miles in front of him. A sea of wild grass waved in the gentle wind. He could see the dozens of farmers as they tended their strange crops. In the center was a massive walled village. Its buildings sported strange curved roofs which reached a point in the center.

Surrounding the entire village was a moderately sized wall, just high enough to keep curious animals out, lined with a peaked roof rather than platforms for patrol. Obviously, they did not expect a siege any time soon. At the end of the road sat a structure more familiar to the Legionary, even if stylistically different. A keep the size of a small house sat over top a wide gate and even from a distance he could see half a dozen guards milling about on or around the building.

The crops came into more generous detail as the two came down the road. The sight perplexed him. It was not wheat, that was for sure. The crops were planted in sunken, square planes, and were flooded just past ankle height, while the road and other pathways kept travelers a foot or so above the surface. Farmers worked at a squat, tending to their crops while wading through and wearing baskets on their backs.

"What crop is this?" he asked his guide.

The servant replied by giving him a look like he was a massive idiot. He returned with a glare like she was a massive asshole.

She relented after a second with a slight sigh. "Rice."

Oh, he thought.

"They flood the fields to keep weeds from growing, but the plant itself is not harmed by it," she further explained. "It is a staple crop to many cultures, and they use it-"

"I know, I know," Glavus said. It seemed that the only time she talked to him was to condescend. "Rome imports huge amounts of rice. I've just never seen it in person."

The servant shrugged. Glavus looked back to the road.

* * *

Eventually they reached the gate. It was two stories tall, with a peaked roof and windows on the second floor, and a roof-like skirt lining the seam between the two floors. A guard stood right outside the entrance, a thick wooden door with heavy iron hinges, brandishing a spear a head taller than himself. He wore a white uniform with a blue trim on it. Sandals and protective foot wrappings adorned his feet, while a simple metal breastplate covered his chest. His facial features were closer to that of the villa's gate guard.

Glavus narrowed his eyes in thought slightly. So this is what these people look like.

The guard eyed the Roman curiously, barely giving Izayoi a second glance; she must be a frequent enough visitor.

"Outsider?" the guard questioned.

Before he could answer, Izayoi did for him. "Yes. He is a guest of mine."

The guard nodded. "Sign in at the desk, please."

'Outsiders' coming to the gates must be a rather casual occurrence, he thought as the guard nonchalantly swung the large door open for the pair...

To be met by the sound of a rather loud argument.

"Gakkafoji-_san_, please! Don't run around out there by yourself!"

"I have a business to run!"

He saw the two people as the door opened fully. "Ah, not again," he heard the outside guard mutter.

A guard sat at a wide wooden desk, covered in stacks of neat parchment, while a girl in some kind of heavy blue robe and wooden sandals stood facing him, red in the face and hands resting on her hips. Try as she might, her petite stature did nothing to intimidate the guard. "Gekkafoji-_san_, all I am asking is that you bring someone with you."

"I am the only employee besides my father, and he's minding the store," the girl, apparently 'Gekkafoji-_san_,' replied.

The tired guard rubbed his temples.

"I doubt your father sent you off on this."

"Well no..." the girl sheepishly admitted.

"Then please don't go wandering near the forest by yourself."

The girl tilted her head slightly as she noticed Glavus enter the room. The hobnails of his _caligae_ rapped loudly against the polished hardwood floor, as opposed to the worn and untreated softer wood that was outside. For the first time in his career, the Legionary cursed his iconic footwear.

"Hey, outsider!" the girl exclaimed, switching her expression like a mask as she trotted up to him. "You look pretty rugged!"

Glavus wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that, but being confused was definitely one of his reactions. Although he got a better look at her face when she turned to him. Her hair was long in the front but secured to her by some type of metal clip, while on the other side a few strands hung straight down in front of her ear. The rest of her hair was tied in the back into a loose tail, some of which was stuck over front of her shoulders. "Outsider?"

"Hey, how about helping me out, huh? Just a quick delivery for my dad's business!"

He gently brushed off one of her hands that was subtly tracing the outline of his _lorica's_ shoulder strips and getting a little close to his bare arm. "Girl, I just got here."

She quickly stepped back with a sly grin, eyeing him critically, before trying to snatch his arm on her way through the outer gate. "Well come on, let's go-"

This attempt was stopped by the outside guard, who shut the gate as gently as he could.

Just as before, her expression dropped to one of annoyance. "Well, fine. This is what I get for trying to make it in this village," she said with an edge of disgust, throwing her hands in defeat as she walked back through the room and towards the inner gate. She left the gate house without a further fuss, however, and the door swing close with the natural pressure of a single-layered leaf spring mounted at the top of the door frame.

Glavus looked at the guard at the desk with the most incredulous and confused expression he could muster.

"Don't worry about her," the guard replied. "She's the older daughter of one of the village's blacksmiths."

"You two seemed pretty familiar," the Roman noted.

"Her father is the main supplier for one-off orders for the guard force. Usually replacement parts and spears and she delivers them."

"She seems... Expressive is one way to put it."

"Eh, yeah," he admitted. "Poor girl scared off her first suitor, I heard. Some stonemason's apprentice."

"How old is she now?" Glavus asked.

"A month from nineteen. What, she caught your eye?"

Glavus' face flashed momentarily before he regained control of his face. He had to admit, she wasn't bad looking. "No, no, just curious. She looked pretty young to be running outside the house. Shouldn't she be learning household tasks?"

"Yeah she should be," the guard agreed. "Her mother tries her best, though." The guard took a moment to stand up and stretch before looking at the piles on his desk. "Well, anyway. So, outsider, are you planning on staying or do you want to head back to where you came from."

"Uh, I'll be staying here," Glavus answered. "What is an outsider, anyway?"

"You can't really get to this area very easily. In fact, you really can't even if you wanted to. Weirdos usually come in every now and then, assuming they make it here to the village. Most go up to the shrine and go back to their homes."

"Are you calling me a weirdo?"

The guard raised his hands defensively. "No, no! Just that _most_ outsiders are weirdos. Weird clothing, don't know how to get around the world, acting like this," he gestured to the guard house around him, "is full of revolutionary technology."

"Well this area is about par for the course where I'm from." Except, of course, the two previous houses he had visited. He thought it better to not bring them up, however.

"Glad to hear it," the guard answered. "Just one thing before I can let you in. I need your answers for an immigration form." He reached for one of the piles on his desk and produced a small half-sized sheet off the top of a stack, and a feather pen and ink bottle. "Family and personal name?"

"Carissimus Glavus," the Roman answered. The guard wrote it down.

"Home country and province?"

"Rome, province of Narbonensis."

"Occupation or specialty."

"Soldier."

"Could've guessed that, honestly. Circumstances of visit?"

Glavus thought for a moment. It wasn't like he tried to come here, although at the end of the day he was glad he did. He pondered his answer for another second before replying, "I survived an ambush, escaped into a nearby forest, and I woke up here."

"And she is your sponsor?"

"Yes." Funny, he didn't ask her name. He must already be familiar with her.

"Thank you for that. Good luck." He turned his head towards the servant. "And enjoy your visit, Izayoi-_san_."

The servant gave a slight bow before leading out the inner gate and into the village.

The streets bustled with activity. The first thing he noticed was the strange fashion. Robes with waist belts seemed to be the predominant fashion, and many varieties of color dominated them, especially among the girls and young women. He saw one girl with a boy her age, probably either betrothed or married, happily chattering and holding hands as they wandered through the street. Her clothing was a bright purple, which was prohibitively expensive in Rome, but was apparently not so in this village.

Something bumped into his leg. He looked down to see a small boy at his leg, probably five or so in age. A few others caught up to their friend.

"Hello, Outsider-_san_!" the boy said before running off. Describing these others as 'weirdos' must be accurate, Glavus thought, if a Roman Legionary in full armor was nothing more than something to run into while playing.

"Carissimus-_san_, where do you wish to go?" Izayoi asked.

He turned to her to answer. "I suppose I need a job, then."

"That girl may be a good start," she suggested.

* * *

Rather than the usual wood and parchment—parchment! they made buildings out of parchment here!—this building was mostly built of clay and stone. Appropriate, he thought, if it was going to be regularly dealing with the extreme temperatures a forge would produce. To the side was an outside workshop with a furnace, a couple work tables, a wheel grinder, and a few other stations. It was generously covered by an iron skeleton for a roof and its support with clay tiles providing the actual water-proofing.

He gently swung open the front door. The girl was there at the front desk writing on a ledger. Her face immediately perked up as he stepped into the shop. "Hey there, Outsider-_san_! I see you couldn't resist my charms!" she said with a beaming smile.

No, he definitely could.

She hopped up to her feet and went up to him and began inspecting his gear, a finger tapping her chin in thought. So this is the daughter of a blacksmith, he said in his mind to himself. She began circling him, taking in every inch of his armor.

"Wow, this is pretty unique. Protection similar to a plate with some decent flexibility. And it's all steel?" She huh'd and hmm'd in thought as she continued. "Nothing substantial on the legs or arms and you've got pretty heavy greaves. Where's your shield then? Armor like this looks like it's supposed to have a shield."

"I lost it," Glavus answered. She knew her father's field, apparently.

"Shame," Gekkafoji-_san_ said. "I would love to study your culture's shields too. The helmet is really protective too, and you've got an interesting flange over the neck."

"It's for protecting against raking," Glavus explained. "Enemy swords plunge over top the shield and scrape as they're pulled back."

"What's the super short sword for?"

"It is easier to use in formation. We fight by presenting a shield wall and stabbing at the enemy when they expose themselves."

The girl straightened out and nodded in response. "Yup, that explains it. Can I see the sword?"

Amused by her reactions to his gear, he unsheathed his _gladius_ for her.

"Oh... oh wow. Stabbing tip, sharp..." she touched the edge of it, "Ow! Yup, sharp edge. And with all that weight out front for chopping and aided by the concave edge in the middle, I've never seen anything like it. It's completely different from _anything_ I've seen! You outsiders sure are an interesting bunch. Where are you from anyway?"

"Rome." Interesting that she couldn't immediately tell. Although, it's not like anyone in the world could just send images instnantly across the world. It's not like he could expect everyone to recognize a Legionary on sight.

"Huh, never heard of it," she said dismissively with a flip of her hand.

And that was the first punch to the existential gut he had received. The world he once knew was gone. Only the goddess really even knew what Rome truly was, the others who had probably heard fantastic tales of the empire were obviously the exception, 'outsiders' to this world as much as he was. His stomach felt cold, his breath empty. To those two gate guards, he was nothing more than some eccentric 'weirdo' as well. No one in the street really spared him a concentrated gaze, just curious glances before they realized "Yup, just another one blowing through."

"Hey, Outsider-_san_, you alright?" the girl asked. Again, her damn face switching from one mood to another! He calmed himself before that train of thought went further. It really wasn't her fault; he shouldn't take it out on her.

"Yes, yes I'm alright," he answered. As he sheathed his weapon.

She switched back to happy mode. "So, how about that escort, huh?"

"I'm going to need compensation, but I can do it."

A coy smile grew on her lips as her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you want something from me? My company isn't enough?"

"Sorry, smiles from girls don't fill the belly."

Her smile widened. "Hm? Is that what you think of when you see me?"

"No."

Her eyelids fluttered slightly. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Oh, fine, what do you want, a sword? Money?" she asked as she turned around and headed back to her seat. From behind the ledger table she pulled out a shiny steel cylinder and unscrewed the top quarter of its length. To his curiosity, she then poured out a steaming liquid into a small clay cup and offered it to him.

"A shield," he answered. "Thank you. What is this?"

"_Ocha_," she said.

"How is it still hot?" he asked, taking an experimental sip. He couldn't taste much over the heat. He decided to let it cool down a little before he tried more.

"An outsider traded me this, called it a _thermos_. It keeps hot things hot and cold things cold. So I just make my _ocha_ twice a day and it lasts," she proudly explained.

He sipped his _ocha_ again after it cooled a little. It was bitter compared to a good wine, but it wasn't really bad after a couple sips.

"Oh, Gekkafoji-_san_, I would like to place another order, please," Izayoi said.

"Sure, what would you like? The usual?"

"Yes. Although I would like just ten knives this time."

The blacksmith's daughter accepted a small pile of coins that Izayoi pulled from one of her dress pockets. "You have the silver too?"

"Of course," the servant answered before producing a small ingot of the precious metal.

"What in the world do you need _silver knives_ for, Izayoi?" Glavus expressed before he could stop himself.

Like it was her hobby, Sakuya once again looked like him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. "Why, for killing vampires, of course."

Glavus almost spit out his drink.

* * *

AN: First note is that even though Japanese is being localized to him, some words still don't exist in Latin. "Misses/Mister" being one of them, so it's left untranslated to his ears. Latin does not have honorifics like English or Japanese do. The Romans also did not have tea, so there is no word to translate it into (and then into English for us) so the actual word they're saying is used here.

And now we have the other main character. Double OC story, bah, whatever. Just enjoy the ride. Kinda rushed, yes, but this is where I originally planned last chapter to end. Although splitting this let me flesh it out a little. It's not that I am intentionally writing less, I'm just spreading the chapters to about the same content. I'm now where I want to be with the story.


	5. Reverence and Dues

His order placed and most of his gear stowed safely inside the blacksmith's home, save for his _sarcina_ and _pugio_ on his belt, Glavus now had one problem. He was desperate for some kind of direction, rather than physical help now. He needed to make a visit, and for that he needed an animal.

And so here he was outside the silversmith's home, his _sarcina_ now full of native coin as he strode out into the street. "Thank you again, Gekkafoji. I really do appreciate your help."

"Ah, don't mention it," the blacksmith's daughter said, waving him off. "I can't have that old geezer ripping off one of my friends. And since I can tell the purity of metals, it was as easy as pie!"

Glavus tilted his head. "Easy as pie?"

"Oh, ah, it's just a saying. It was easy," she answered, shrugging. "Oh, and call me Niko."

"Then I guess you can call me Glavus," the Roman replied, earning a slight smile from her. "How does that ability work anyway? Do other people have abilities like that?"

Niko shook her head. "No, they're pretty rare. I only noticed I had mine a year or two ago. And I don't really understand it," she explained. "It's like trying to explain taste to someone who can't taste."

"That's very interesting. I've only heard of the descendants of gods having abilities like that."

She chuckled at his statement. "No, nothing crazy like that. An _o__ni_ in the forest just gave me a sword to restore as a job."

That reply gave Glavus pause. He wasn't entirely sure whether that was more or less believable.

"An _oni_?" he questioned.

"Yup, big monster, red skin and horns on his head, apparently they like to eat people."

What? What!? Glavus decided to just ignore that. He'd already had a ten year old try to eat him and was visited by some insane goddess. "Niko, I have another favor to ask."

* * *

The shrine at the top of the hill was rather modest, but well upkept. He passed through a massive wooden squared portal as he reached flat ground and took in the view. Three or four _acti_ away sat the shrine, a one floor structure surrounded by a sparse wood, that gradually grew denser the further away from the shrine one went. It held an impressive roof for its small size. Glavus began walking down the stone tile path towards the squat building. Niko had elected to go back to her shop. She had business to conduct, it seemed.

The legionary held the bag tightly by the top; the chicken had mostly given up, but would jump at the chance to run away as soon as he gave it one. He reached the steps to the shrine, which were worn smooth over the years with small ruts forming in the center, and stepped up to a large wooden box with a slotted lid at the top.

It was rather foreign to him. There was no large decorated building, no wide altar for a group to use for their sacrifices. Well, I might as well, he figured. He dropped a couple small coins into the box.

The second the coins rang as they hit the bottom of the box the sound of shuffling feet and sliding doors could be heard coming from the interior of the building. "Thank you for the donation~"

The woman that greeted him wore rather strange clothes, but then again so did everyone in this place. Rather than the Vestal robes he was used to, the shrine's pristess sported a split front robe-like blouse that was common to the villagers, except it was tucked into her legwear rather than running the woman's entire length. Her legs were covered by what appeared to be a brilliant red skirt. But as she moved, Glavus discerned that the skirt was instead very loose and pleated trousers.

The most interesting part of her image was, rather, her bright green hair that cascaded down her shoulders, which framed a prominent face studded by a pair of bright green eyes. "An outsider, huh?" she asked, her hands moving towards her hips and her brow furrowing as she took in his figure. Eventually her gazed reached his hand clutching the small burlap sack. A small chirp erupted from it.

"What the hell are you- is that a chicken!?" the priestess yelled, pointing angrily at his bag as the creature inside began to stir from the sound of the conversation.

"I can't afford much more for a sacrifice," Glavus explained. Of course, he thought, what else would I be at a shrine for?

"You don't sacrifice animals to gods!"

Now Glavus was confused. "What? Of course you... Who even is the god of this shrine?"

"I don't-" she stopped a second, averting her eyes quickly as she thought. "That's not the point. If you really need to just do it over there!"

She pointed back towards where he came, by the large gate at the entrance of the shrine grounds.

"Just clean up after yourself!"

Really? No altar or anything?

"Thank you," he replied, giving a quick nod. No point in pushing the issue for anything else. He was sure the gods would understand his predicament anyway.

* * *

"Trivia, goddess of the road to the Underworld, I pray on behalf of my comrades. I offer this chicken I sourced from the village as a sacrifice. May-"

The fire almost unnaturally sprung up and consumed the beheaded chicken which had been placed on a spit over the small bundle of twigs. It was no proper altar, but any divine being willing to help him out was probably not picky about the exact method. It bloomed brilliantly, stinging his eyes as it engulfed the entire animal. Within minutes it was gone, leaving only the charred stick and bones to fall down to the center of the ash. The flame went out with it, leaving wispy trails of smoke that dissipated into the air.

"Huh," was all he had to say. He carefully looked around, subtly sweeping his head side to side a couple times.

"Huh indeed," came a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

He twitched in surprise as a smooth, sweet voice unlike any he had heard spoke up from behind him in perfect, unaccented Latin. The Legionary turned towards the voice and immediately fell to his hands, digging his face into the stone ground once he saw the divine form before him.

"I'm glad you've made it here, Glavus."

"I cannot thank you enough for saving my life," the Roman replied. Emotions welled in his chest, choking him as he thought of more to say. All the stress of ever since the battle, if not his entire life in the Legion, seemed to melt away.

"Thank your lar," the voice answered. "She heard your prayers and asked for intervention. I have to say, spirits coming to me on behalf of humans is rather rare."

"Where is the lar now?" Glavus asked. What a loyal being! If he ever found his lar again he would lavish it with sacrifices!

"Honestly, I don't know. I had to work through a friend of mine to get you here. She made this place so who comes in and out—and when—is up to her."

A third voice popped in suddenly. "Hey, what are you doing here?!"

Glavus' head popped up to see the priestess hurriedly making her way towards the two.

"Hecatia, last time you were here I was cleaning up Hell fairies for a week!"

"Oh, calm down, Sakura. I'm just visiting a worshipper," the goddess answered.

It seemed that the priestess wasn't someone to be trifled with if she could speak one-to-one with a goddess such as Trivia like that. But with his head raised, Glavus could now get a better look at the goddess. Rather than the flowing robes and tall, regal face he expected, she had a set of clothes on he had not seen even in the strange village. She had a short blue skirt on that reached to just above her knees, and her feet were rapped in mid-calf boots that had no apparent seams save for the lacing in the front.

The most confusing aspect of her clothing was a rather baggy shirt that cut off at the waist and halfway down her upper arms. Trivia turned around and faced him. Plastered across the chest on the shirt was the word "SLAYER" in poor handwriting; he wasn't quite sure what that meant. But he supposed that between the two of them, the divine were allowed to wear whatever they wanted.

"Please excuse her," the goddess said. "I supposed I did cause some trouble for her a couple years ago.

Glavus bowed his head once more in obedience. "Of course."

"Now, I have some business to attend to. Clean up, please, and thank you for the chicken. No one knows how to worship a proper goddess anymore."

* * *

With the remains of the fire and sacrifice cleaned up and buried a couple dozen feet into the trees, Glavus made his way back towards the stone pathway and towards the stairs.

"Roman..."

The voice was small, and sounded from right behind him. It was hardly a whisper, but consumed his entire awareness.

"Roman, listen well..."

Again the voice touched his mind directly. He looked around the shrine grounds. The sun was setting and the dark was growing, but the shadows of the forest seemed unnaturally so. It reminded him more of that child monster's power more than natural shade.

"Be wary of the people against which you cast your die."

A bead of sweat beginning to form on his eyebrow. Sparing only a final glance at the woods, he set off at a brisk pace towards the village. The sun would sink below the horizon in roughly an hour. He paid no mind to the woman who was sitting on a boulder by the gate to the shrine. He noticed neither her green hair or eyes, nor her missing legs.

* * *

AN: Relatively short chapter but I think I established for the later story pretty decently. And if you think I was lazy with the scene transitions, I was. I would rather release an imperfect product than never at all though so screw it.

The fan-gathered timeline is very loose, so I'm going to put this after the "Vampire Incident" where an unnamed vampire went on a 'slight' rampage. But, Reimu and Marisa still aren't even born yet. Because screw it, I can. Although later on I may change the last couple chapters. I'm not 100% sure I want the SDM in Touhou that long before EOSD. But luckily they aren't critical to the story so I don't have to drastically change anything, just how he was 'taught' Japanese.

As for Niko's ability to "see the purity of metal", not all humans are necessarily unpowered. Characters like Reimu or Marisa aren't the only examples. Kosuzu from Forbidden Scrollery, for example, is able to read any written language after being exposed to Youma Books.


End file.
